We Are Young
by Ideas265
Summary: Spamano, FrUk, and PruHun Fem! UK and Romano. A party at Ludwig and Gilbert's house changes everything for the love life of the Bad Touch Trio.


**Don't own Hetalia...**

From the corner of his eyes, Francis could see the lights dimming in Gilbert and Ludwig's living room. From the other corner, he could see the North American and Italian twins—especially Lovina—dancing to the upbeat songs that pounded through Gil's new speaker system. Elizaveta was playing billiards with the Nordic guys while Roderich was keeping score. His two friends—Toni and Gil—were helping themselves to more pizza as they comforted Vash, who was quite upset that his sister, Erika, was dancing with a boy, Hercules.

Smirking slightly as he brought the coke bottle to his lips, Francis went back to his work, a make-up writing assignment. If he hadn't made a **D** on it, he would've been dancing, eating, and flirting with everyone else, but no: His teacher just had to ruin the weekend by planting him more work. Sighing, Francis saw Toni and Gil lead Vash to another part of the house so he could calm down, the bathroom probably—that's where all people go to when they're upset, right?

Scratching his head, Francis looked around the living room for inspiration. Across from where he sat, he saw his love, Alice Kirkland. Her petite body was covered with a long skirt with a yellow vest. Her glasses were hot pink, and she kept re-adjusting them as she read her book, Harry Potter perhaps?

Looking into his love's evergreen eyes, Francis just wanted to waltz over to her and ask, "_Do you want to dance?_" He would make sure his accent was dripping with each word and give his dear Alice the dance of her life.

Immediately, the Frenchman's mind snapped back when he saw Alfred F. Jones, twin brother of Matthew Williams, walk up casually to his girl. Bomber jacket unzipped to expose his crisp American flag shirt, ripped jeans to show-off his athletic legs and black shades over his glasses to give him the air of mystery. Yes, Francis was in a showdown with a formidable opponent.

"You look like an idiot with those shades. Take them off," Alice muttered, not bothering to look at the American.

"I can't do that, poppet," Alfred teased, sitting next to the Brit. "I don't want you to see my black eye."

By reflex, Alice grabbed Jones by the collar and yanked his shades off, gasping at his horrible injury.

"What happened, love?" she whispered.

"Basketball accident," Alfred murmured, diverting his eyes to Francis for a brief second before winking. "It's not that serious."

"Yes, it is," Alice snapped, going through her skirt pockets for her mini medicine case.

Francis didn't what got over him. Before he knew it, he was sitting on the other side of Alice.

"Hello," he mumbled, tapping his chin with his pencil, avoiding Alfred's murderous gaze. He didn't blame the American for giving him it. It was hard to forget that it was _he _who gave the American the black eye just earlier today.

Before he knew it, he, Alice, and Al were drinking diet coke.

_Wait, what?! _Francis thought, spitting the awful liquid back into the bottle when Alice wasn't looking.

"I'm going home," Alice finally said, snapping her book shut. Shooting Francis a glare and giving Alfred a sympathetic look, she skipped around the dancing teens and to the front door.

"_I'm sorry! I didn't know what I doing. It was all an accident. Please don't hurt me_!" Francis blurted, French, as soon as Alice stepped out the door.

"Excuse me?" Alfred said, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry for hitting you. Please don't hurt me!" he whimpered. How did he—Francis Bonnefoy—fall this low? How did he—probably the flirtiest person at Hetalia High—stoop this low to a basketball player? Well, if he wanted to still have his handsome face left, then he should keep up what he was doing.

Then the American did something he never expected. He laughed.

"Why would I hurt you? Okay, yeah I would," he muttered, grabbing Francis by his collar. "But, why would I hit the very person who scored me a date with Alice Kirkland." The look of horror on Francis' face only broadened Alfred's sly grin. "Thanks for the hit, but never do it again," he growled. Pushing Francis away, Alfred F. Jones returned back to the dance floor, ready for Dance 2.

Francis sat there, numb. Pulling is pencils and papers together, Francis got up and strutted past the dancers and towards the door, hoping with all his might that he wasn't going to break down or cry. Shutting the door quietly behind him, Francis collapsed onto his knees, bashing them both on the Germans' "rock-solid" doormat.

"_Stupid!_" Francis muttered to himself, pulling his wavy hair back into a hasty ponytail. Mopping up his tears, Francis sulked his way down to the street. There, he saw Alice Kirkland, herself, leaning against the German brother's metal fence, twirling her pigtails.

"Were you crying?" she whispered, stepping back to her straight posture. Francis shook his head, hiding his frown with a billionaire's smile.

"Oh," she blushed, looking at the ground. "Do you want to walk home together?" That lifted Francis' head.

"Why don't I carry you home?" he teased. "You look like you need a pick-me-up yourself," he added, noticing the redness around her beautiful eyes—_his _favorite eyes.

* * *

"Think you can take care of him?" Gil asked Antonio as Vash retold his long sibling history with Erika, _again_. Giving him a pained smile, Antonio nodded. "Thanks, ToniBoy." Leaving the bathroom, Gilbert loosened his collar. "Tsk, I don't get Luddy's sense of formal wear," he muttered, rolling up his sleeves. "It's not like we're at a wedding."

Thinking about it—the wedding—he hopped down the stairs with one leg before ladling pink lemonade into a plastic cup. At first sip, the cool liquid hit his stomach like some magic elixir—burning his tongue with its acidic taste. Licking his lips, he ladled himself more lemonade, slurping it. Within half an hour, Gilbert was bobbing himself into conversations and butting himself into dancing couples—receiving slaps from the girls when he pushed their guys aside.

In the end, Ludwig had to duct-tape his albino brother to a chair in the kitchen to keep him out of trouble.

"Bring me back more lemonade!" Gilbert slurred, giggling as he hiccupped.

"You've had too much sugar," Ludwig lectured, wagging a disapproving finger. "I'll toss you up the stairs to bed later," he muttered, shaking his head.

"Bye, Luddy~" Squealing like a little girl, Gil managed to pull out his Swiss-army knife and cut the duct-tape that kept him together. Grabbing a glass he pulled a pitcher of pink lemonade from the fridge and began nursing his sugary addiction.

Meanwhile, by the billiards table, Elizaveta decided to throw in the towel after another win.

"It isn't fun when there's no real challenge," she pouted. Looking at Roderich, she smiled, "I'll go get us some drinks. Gil probably has something tasty hidden in his fridge somewhere." Rolling his eyes, Roderich let Elizaveta go.

Skipping across the dance floor, she kicked the kitchen door open with a flourish. Lying on the floor—moaning—was Gil himself. A pitcher of lemonade was by his side—all the contents drunk. His Swiss-army knife was sticking out of the fridge door—_should I even ask?_ Elizaveta thought—and shredded pieces of duct-tape were on the floor like confetti.

"Gil, what happened?" she gasped, kneeling beside the albino. At her presence, he opened his foggy eyes.

"Why'd you leave me?" were the words that slurred out his mouth.

"This isn't the right time to go there," Elizaveta hushed, dragging Gilbert onto a chair. Thinking for a moment, Gil pulled himself from her grasp and turned to face her, face red from his sugary drink.

"That's all you say now! When is the right time?! How would I know? You never bothered to tell me!" he shouted, pointing at her. "I might not be smart as Roddy, or talented, or smart, but I know the real you!"

"Gilbert…" she warned, rummaging the kitchen drawers for a frying pan. "This is the real me, don't you see? Being with Roderich have been the happiest moments of my life." Gil scoffed.

"_Happy?_" He was close to tears now. "The Liz I knew would never close herself into a neat package. She's wild, funny, daring, and a gossip sponge! She isn't dull and boring or whatever the heck that Rod planted into your mind! Why can't you see that?"

"Gilbert, calm down," she reasoned, finding the frying pan she needed, ready to hit her former-friend if needed.

"No, just shut up and listen," Gil slurred, tripping over his feet and landing on Elizaveta. Apparently, she thought this was a "You stab my back, I'll stab yours" situation, so she slammed that frying pan over Gil's head like there was no tomorrow. The albino slid back onto the floor, blanked.

"Heh, we always find new ways to fall apart," he chuckled, using his hands to stop the bleeding from his head. "That's what I love about you, Liz." Gilbert smiled before fainting with a groan.

"Good thing this is your house or I wouldn't be able to drag you up to bed," Elizaveta wheezed, dragging a recently bandaged Gil up the stairs so he could sleep the pain off, ten minutes later. Some folk gave her weird looks—especially her boyfriend, Roderich, and Gil's brother—but they never bothered to say anything to her, so she kept up what she was doing.

Throwing Gil onto his bed, Elizaveta sat beside the sleeping albino, getting more bandages for his busted head.

_"I love you."_

Elizaveta dropped the bandage roll and stared at Gil like he came back to life. Same sleeping expression on his face: Was she hearing things?

* * *

Tired and a bit disappointed, Toni rested his chin on his arms as he sat outside the front door. Vash had finally calmed down enough to allow Toni to enjoy the night, but it wasn't the same. Francis had already left, and Gil was recovering from his sugar addiction and head injury—strangely, Ludwig never specified what exactly happened.

The warm spring air and fireflies softened the Spaniard's expression and lulled him to drowsiness. It felt so nice…Just five minutes would do…

"Hey, happy-goer, wake up!"

Kick to the knee-cap later, Toni opened one eye. It was Lovina.

"What are you doing here, Lov?"

"Party's over, salsa-dancer," she snapped—red faced from the nickname Toni gave her. "Need a lift?"

That woke the Spaniard up.

"Where's Feliciana?" he asked, green eyes looking like they should belong on a child. Lovina let out a huff of frustration before sitting next to Toni.

"Potato-lover's walking her home. Apparently, I drive worse than a blonde sipping Starbucks," Lovina muttered, "And he's telling me that when he's a blonde!"

"Ludwig has his reasons," Toni joked, receiving a slap from the feisty Italian.

"Stop joking around and get into the car," Lovina snapped, throwing her flip-flops off her feet as she ran to her Corolla. High in spirits, Toni collected her flip-flops before chasing after her.

* * *

"Thanks for the walk, Francis," Alice blushed, hiding her face with her chapter book. "You really helped me a lot." Francis smiled, hands deep in his pocket.

"I should be thanking you instead! The talk we had…we should have more like that. It was really nice…" Francis messed with his collar instinctively. Why was he so flustered? He'd talked with her before and everything was fine then.

"Yeah, I'll like that. Maybe we can go to that café by school."

"Is it a date?" Francis teased, receiving a head-whack from Alice's "dictionary".

"Not that far, Bonnefoy!"

Before the Brit could walk up her path steps, Francis grabbed her vest sleeve. She turned and saw, instead of the French she'd always knew, a shy, quiet boy from years back.

"Hey, if Alfred's being a total jerk like always, you can always come and visit."

"Francis?" she asked, confused. Francis turned red as he looked up at the starry sky, looking for a sign. _Better now than never_, he thought.

"Alice, I…"

* * *

Warm soft blanket, squishy pillow, and warmth: Yep, it was exactly what Gil thought it was; his bed. His aching head split on him again as he moved his head right and left for a comfy spot. His red eyes opened, and he saw the tall lean figure of his _former_ girl. She had her back towards him as she talked into her phone.

"It's just for a while, Roderich! I left him in this mess, so it's best that I dig him out!" Gilbert snapped his hearing back on. Was Liz _actually _talking back to that snobby-genius? "You don't understand," Elizaveta sighed. "Don't talk to me right now, I have to change his bandages…Fine, then!"

Hanging up her phone, she tossed it across the room before dropping her face into her hands.

"Lizzie…What…go…on?" Gilbert mumbled, struggling with his English. He tried to lift his head and bring his hand to her for comfort, but only felt pain as his hands curled into fists. "You…can tell…me…"

Not like he thought, Liz didn't seem surprised that he woke up or started talking to her. Her eyes just shined with tears as she pulled the sore albino into a hug. And he, Gilbert, just had to ruin it by slipping, "Can't breathe…_frau_…"

"S-Sorry, Gil," she apologized, gently placing the albino back on his pillow. "Roderich's just…getting more unbearable now. It's like I need his permission for everything I do."

"He…a jerk…"Gilbert stumbled, not knowing why he was still talking.

"He doesn't understand, Gil."

"I…do…" he told her. Elizaveta laughed before slapping Gil's thigh playfully. "I…like…like…" Looking away from her, he added, "Why you…leave…alone?"

He could see his _former_ girl's hands tense up at that.

"We…not together, but you…carried me…home."

"No, I carried you to your room. We were already in your house," Elizaveta stated, changing Gil's bandages. He grabbed her hand, scaring her with his reflex.

"You carried me home," he whispered, English knotted back together. "Liz…I…"

* * *

Surprisingly, despite the rumors, Lovina wasn't a bad driver. Okay, she did go over the speed limit a few times, but she had everything under control. Her dark eyes looked pretty as the moon's light bounced on them, her hair so soft that Toni wanted to run his hand through it, and Lovino herself, a feisty and beautiful girl.

Parking in front of his house, Lovina shot,

"Well, you better get going. That potato's probably kissing my _sorella_ behind a tree or something." Toni blinked before realizing he had to leave.

Unbuckling himself, he said, "_Gracias_, Lovi~"

"Just get out!" she snapped, blushing. "You're so annoying, ToniBoy…"

"It's who I am," he laughed, opening the car door slowly. That punched one of Lovina's buttons. She literally had to kick Toni out. "Why are you so violent?"

"Maybe it's because someone's taking their sweet old time!" she screeched, slamming the door shut and starting up the engine. Toni stood his ground as he rested his head on Lovina's car door window.

"You don't have to run away. You brought me home."

"What are you getting at?" Lovina shot, revving up her engine threateningly.

"The others never came and woke me up or offered to drive me back, but you did," he started. "Is it a crime to hear your voice once more before you leave?"

"Just get to the point, Antonio…" she whispered, taking her keys out. Toni smirked before whispering,

"I love you, Lovi~"


End file.
